Luthvian poured the last of the wine, studied the deep red color.

But Lucivar would never listen to her, would never yield to her wishes, would never even look at a different kind of woman while Marian was there making his favorite meals and keeping his cock sheathed.

Which meant she had to convince Marian it was in her own best interest to leave.

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-TWO

“They’re lovely.”

Marian turned away from the bed of spring flowers, wary of the friendly tone in Luthvian’s voice. “Lucivar isn’t here right now.”

“I know.” Luthvian opened the gate and stepped into the garden, looking around as if she’d never seen it before. “I came to see you.”

“Why?” Marian pressed her lips together, struggling for enough composure to offer hospitality. Luthvian’s opinion of her, disapproval of her, always pulsed in the air. So this unexpected warmth in the Black Widow’s demeanor made her uneasy.

“You do care about Lucivar, don’t you?” Luthvian asked, suddenly sounding anxious.

“Yes, I”—love him—“care for him very much.”

“Then do what’s right for him, Marian. Do what’s best for him.”

“I don’t understand.”

Luthvian looked distraught. “May I have something to drink?”

“Of course.” She led Luthvian to the side entrance and down the domestic corridor to the kitchen. She never thought twice about Jaenelle using this entrance, but as Luthvian’s presence seemed to gain weight behind her, she wished she’d gone around to the front door.

*Tassle?* Marian called. *Lady Luthvian is visiting.*

Sulkiness filled the link between them. *I will stay away.*

Luthvian wasn’t fond of Tassle—probably because he referred to her as “Yas’s bitch.” Which, from Tassle’s point of view, was true. It still didn’t make things easy when the two of them were in the same room.

“I’ll put a kettle on for tea.”

“Thank you.” Luthvian sank into a chair. She undid her cloak’s fastenings but didn’t take it off, a clear signal that she didn’t intend to stay long.

Neither of them said anything until Marian brought the tea to the table. She watched Luthvian take a sip, then set the cup aside.

“Lucivar and I have our problems, but I only want what is best for my son,” Luthvian said earnestly.

Marian nodded, not sure how to reply beyond that.

“And even though I’ve sometimes been harsh with you, I want what is best for you, too, Marian.” Luthvian paused and pressed her lips together as if she were waging some deep internal battle. “Don’t you see what’s happening? You’ve made it too easy for him to play house.”

“What?” Marian’s cup clattered in the saucer, slopping tea.

“You’re taking care of all of his physical needs, so he’s not making any effort to find a wife.”

“Wife?”